The Joys of Being a Civilian
by Whirling
Summary: Dick is bored out of his mind while Wally takes care of some kind of issue at his bank. What can he do to get rid of the boredom? Analyze room occupants, check. Hold his breath, check. Get shot... check? (Oneshot, minor birdflash.)


**Okie dokie. So I was bored and I wrote this in a few hours. It's now 2AM. It has not been proofread. In other words, I apologize beforehand for any mistakes/awkward grammar!**

**Hope you enjoy! This can be read as birdflash/the beginning of a relationship between Wally and Dick, but I refer to them as best friends throughout it, so it's up to the reader.**

**This is a one shot.**

**T for swear words. You have been warned!**

**Nothing you recognize belongs to me.**

* * *

Dick Grayson was bored.

Not that he wasn't used it - years of going to social meets and dinners and other random gatherings with Bruce had ensured that he was well accustomed to the feeling. Not to mention the hours he spent on stakeouts with Batman. School was a kind of boredom all on its own. But seriously, he couldn't help it! Wally was taking _forever_ with this stupid money thing. Thank god Bruce took care of all of his money. (It's probably locked up in a high security vault somewhere in Wayne Enterprises.)

But man, hadn't they been here for an hour and a half already? What was taking them so damn long to fix Wally's account? The teen groaned and stared pleadingly at his ginger friend. "Wally. Waaallllyy. Are you done yet?"

With a quick apologetic glance at his 16-year-old friend, Wally shook his head. "Sorry, bro. Shouldn't take too much longer, right?" He looked hopefully at the receptionist, and she just smiled and continued talking to him about some boring issues with his bank account.

Dick stared up and the dull tan ceiling of the bank and sighed, long and drawn out, to be sure that Wally knew how much he was suffering.

The two best friends had been at Wally's bank since noon because of a problem that they'd found with his bank account. Something about possible fraud. Dick hadn't really made an attempt to understand it, he was just annoyed that his limited free time was being wasted in a _bank_, of all things. He was with Wally to hang out, why was this issue so important that Wally had needed to stay here for - almost two hours, now!

Rubbing his forehead, the detectives's apprentice looked around the bank's main room, analyzing the seven other people that were there, other than him, Wally, and Wally's receptionist. There was a middle aged lady who looked mildly annoyed and stressed, talking to another receptionist next to Dick and Wally. Her son, who was maybe four or five, was sitting on the floor next to his mom, playing Angry Birds on a smartphone that he sincerely hoped was the mom's. Five was _way_ to young to be giving kids a smartphone. The next person he looked at was a security guard who looked like he was just as bored as Dick, if not more so. Fourth was the grandma sitting in a waiting chair, looking slightly confused as to why she was there in the first place. Fifth and sixth were a couple who were way too happy and optimistic and _loud_ to be real people. They had to be robots. Dick made a mental note to keep an eye on them for any signs of proof that they were human. The last person... had just walked out the door. But he had been your average business man; suit, dress shoes, fancy wallet. There was also another receptionist who was waiting patiently behind a counter for a customer to walk in. Dick sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling.

His habit of analyzing people was a quirk that he'd inherited pretty quickly from Bruce. Obviously the Bat's paranoia had rubbed off on him. The first thing he did when entering a new place was search out any and all exits (including air vents, although he was slowly getting too big to use them). The second thing he always did was to make a mental note of everyone who was in the room. It had honestly just turned into something Dick did without thinking about.

Wally was still talking. His voice had become background noise to the acrobat. Dick tuned him out and focused on a breathing exercise to help pass the time. He was trying to see how long he could hold his breath. He breathed in, long and deep, and then out slowly for a few minutes, before starting the timer on his watch. He closed his eyes and distracted himself from his slowly disappearing supply of air by thinking about some strategies he could use to get past a level of a video game that he and Wally were stuck on. He managed to beat his record of 6:24 with a 6:29, but he was still annoyed that he was nowhere near Bruce's record of 12:18.

Dick looked over at Wally. It looked like he was finally wrapping this up. He was nodding and promising to check in with the bank if any other problems arose with his account. _Finally_, Dick thought. Then he glanced around at the rest of the bank, and stiffened almost immediately.

Four men had just entered the building. They were tall and bulky, and overall intimidatingly built. They were wearing long jackets and there was no doubt that one of them _definitely_ had a gun. He had his hand on the holster, although it was still covered by his jacket. Dick made an educated guess from experience that the rest of them had guns too, and he had a feeling he knew why they were here.

"Wally," Dick said urgently, backing up to put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "_Wally_." He didn't take his eyes off of the group of men, who were pulling out ski masks (really, ski masks? Cliche much?) and eyeing the civilians who were in the bank.

_Civilians_.

Crap. _He and Wally were civilians._ They couldn't do anything suspicious.

_Shit, I hate being a civilian when I need to be Ro- I mean, Nightwing._

Wally had turned away from the receptionist counter, taken in the situation in a few seconds, and paled almost instantly. "Shit," he muttered quietly, putting his hand on Dick's shoulder and pushing the smaller teen slightly behind him, as though he were trying to shield him with his body. At this, Dick glared up at his friend. In a different situation, he might have been indignant, but he had to admit that he was a little nervous. Without his Kevlar protecting him, he was painfully vulnerable to bullets. At least Wally had accelerated healing. And super speed. Except that he couldn't really use that in front of so many people while he was a civilian.

The bank robbers had taken out their guns and were waving them around. "All righty, people! We're just gonna go 'head and take what we want an' then be on our way. No need for any of y'all to get in our way. We'd prefer not to use these things unless necessary." The 'leader' of the little group shook his gun for emphasis. The receptionists were cowering behind the counter. The grandma had hidden behind her chair, but she still had a vaguely confused look on her face. Maybe it was just permanently like that. The mother had picked up her son and was holding him protectively against her chest while trying to press herself into the counter, as though she could meld with it and disappear. The overly excited couple were sitting on the floor looking terrified and hugging each other. Dick felt a slight pang of guilt for comparing them to robots - there was no way anyone could think they weren't human now.

Wally was still in front of him, Dick noted with annoyance. They both had their hands up, but were standing straight, with no fear on their faces.

The main robber guy continued. "You guys behind the counter, get out here and sit in front of it. You two, sit down. And you two." He gestured to Dick and Wally, and then the boy and his mother. All four obeyed, but Dick continued to glare daggers at the armed men.

He didn't like guns. (That was something Bruce had rubbed off on him too.)

Two of them stayed in the middle of the room with their eyes trained on the occupants, while two of them moved to retrieve the money that they had come here to steal.

Dick leaned forward and asked quietly in Wally's ear, "Is there anything we can do?"

Wally shrugged, narrowing his eyes, but before he could respond one of the two men watching them barked out, "Hey! No talking!"

Dick rolled his eyes and snorted. He was in a bad mood. He had been dragged to this stupid bank and had been waiting for two hours so that he could spend time with his best friend, but these stupid fucking robbers just had to come ruin his day even more. "What do you think we can do?" He retorted, glaring at the masked man. "Talk loud enough that Superman will hear us all the way from Metropolis? I wasn't doing any harm."

The man stiffened and stalked over to the two teens. "Listen here, kid. There are two things that I've noticed about this situation. One is that you've got a smartass mouth. Two is that _I'm_ the one holding the gun here." He raised the weapon at Dick's head, causing the boy to flinch slightly and look at the ground. Wally's mouth dropped open and he pushed himself in front of Dick.

"Hey, hey! Listen mister, he's just in a bad mood, please don't hurt him!" Wally pleaded. He hated having to suck up to a _bank robber_, but they were civilians here, and if Dick was shot, there was nothing to stop the bullet.

He growled and dropped the gun back to his side, glaring over his shoulder at Dick as he walked back to where his friend was.

The black haired teen sighed softly in relief, and muttered a quick "thank you" to Wally. The only reply he got was the older boy's hand going to his wrist and curling around it tightly, as though to reassure himself that his friend was still there.

"I'm fine, Wals."

The fingers around his wrist just squeezed tighter.

A few more minutes passed, and the other two robbers emerged from inside the bank with a few bags tossed over their shoulders. "All righty. Let's get outta here, shall we fellas?" The one in charge smirked.

"Good riddance," Dick snarled under his breath - _maybe_ a bit too loudly.

But he really didn't like guns.

"What was that?" The leader turned towards the two boys sitting on the bank's floor. "Care to repeat it?"

Dick looked furious, but shook his head quickly.

"I thought not. Let's get outta here." He gestured to the group of men, and they exited the building quickly - all except for one of them.

Dick recognized him as the one who had threatened him with a gun, and groaned internally. Before leaving the building, the man turned and stared at the black haired teen for a moment, before announcing with a hint of amusement, "You know what? I think I'm gonna teach your smart mouth a lesson about talking back to those more powerful than you."

Dick gritted his teeth, but refrained from answering.

"Well, kid? Nothing to say? No smart remarks now, hmm?"

Wally stood up. "Listen, you've got your money, _please_ leave...," he trailed off, trying to speak in a persuasive tone.

He must've failed, because next thing Dick knew, a sharp crack ripped through the air and there was an unbearable burning in his right shoulder. He cried out and curled in on himself as the man laughed remorselessly and left the building.

"Oh god, Dick!"

He could hear Wally, but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that was spreading from his shoulder, _god_ it hurt so much. He pressed down hard on the wound, trying to alleviate the agony.

Now he remembered why he hated guns so much. Because they fucking _hurt_.

"_Wally_," he gasped, trying not to cry from the pain.

"It's okay, it's okay Dick, we just called an ambulance, and the police, it'll be fine, you'll be fine, it's okay-"

Wally was talking very quickly, and almost as if he was trying to reassure himself.

But Dick had been hurt worse. This was nothing compared to some things he had been through.

Didn't change the fact that it hurt. A lot.

"Dick, you are so stupid sometimes," Wally whispered into his ear.

"I know," he growled around clenched teeth. "...sorry," he added, after a moment.

"Damn right you're sorry. Don't ever do that again."

"Well, don't spend two hours at the bank next time," he said breathlessly, trying to keep his breaths calm, but ultimately failing.

"Shh, shh. The ambulance is almost here, I can hear it." Wally had one hand on his left shoulder and one stroking his friend's black hair gently as he tried to keep both of them calm.

By now, the rest of the people had gathered around the duo, trying to see what they could do. The five year old kid was crying and hugging his mom. Grandma still looked confused.

The paramedics burst into the bank and went straight to action, putting pressure on the bullet wound.

The red haired boy was pushed away in the commotion, and although blackness was slowly gathering around the edges of his vision, he began to panic as he lost sight of his friend.

"Wally," he called out, his voice breaking slightly in alarm - and then he was _there_, one hand around his left wrist, and Dick allowed himself to succumb to the darkness.

/ ~ line break ~ \\\\\

As he gradually became aware once more, Dick noticed that there was still a certain hand encircling his wrist.

His bright blue eyes slowly blinked open, and he took in the blinding whiteness of a hospital room. He looked to his left, and sure enough, Wally was dozing in a chair next to him.

Looking around the rest of the room, he realized there was another person with them, and stiffened before realizing that it was Bruce.

"...hullo," he muttered softly, hoping that his guardian wouldn't be too mad.

Bruce just raised an eyebrow.

They looked at each other for a few moments, before Dick glanced down, and then at the hand holding his wrist.

He was silent a few moments longer, until then he announced firmly, "I hate guns."

Bruce smirked.


End file.
